


Here

by ThatsSoPhin



Series: J2 College Experience [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 00:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatsSoPhin/pseuds/ThatsSoPhin
Summary: Jared doesn't want to be here watching new-adolescents get drunk and make mistakes. He doesn't want to be here, and neither does a strange blonde leaning against the wall behind the building, creating white clouds of air and breath.





	1. Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 1 to series I'm doing.I started this over the summer and still didn't finish but, heres what I have so far. Enjoy and make sure to leave kudos and comment!

Heart beat synchronizing with the music, thumping as his steps got softer, and pumping shivers outwards. Fear isn’t the distinct reason Jared’s jittery, shifting from foot to foot, leaning against the wall. No, it’s more a mix of fear and ignorance; unclearness, if that was a word. Maybe one can identify it as social anxiety, but the dim lights burn his skin.  
Scanning the trippy environment, a mash of blues and purples with a hue of red surrounding it, Jared look for an exit, or a corner. Something to shelter his existence. However the flashing of colors cover any forms of masking, or escape, leaving him to contact the surroundings. Drunk girls, high boys, delusional children, students in denial, pessimistic addicts. Any form of a youth verging towards the arc of adulthood, aiming to abuse whatever is left of their discovery period. 

He would blame it on Chad, blame it on stupid social expectations, or millennial society, but he wasn’t here, and Jared won’t confront the other two. 

He would scratch his arms, but he’s afraid to move. 

Only in moments like this does Jared noticeably feel his own running pulse, excreting blood through his tall system to the overanxious control panel, processing the room’s contents in order to map an exit. Chad, where the fuck is he? Dead? Well he definitely will be soon, the godforsaken asshole. 

Letting out an irritated sigh, Jared finally allows himself to scratch his arm, satisfaction coursing through his lanky body after a few seconds. Distractions aren’t reliable in some situations, but there are exceptions, and with soaring anxiety, exceptions are understood. It was the same reasoning he used when arguing with Chad, that he didn’t need to go to this party, or for that matter, situations that were out of his comfort zone. He is completely fine with a beer in his hand and a good book in the other as a liable Saturday afternoon, but Chad claims otherwise. No, ‘leaving your comfort zone and experiencing bad decisions’ is what he deems best, saying that it was their only time to break rules and be stupid. But, he said the same thing freshman year of high school, and senior prom. Now, apparently, the same rules apply to freshman year in college. 

For Jared, drinking beer at 18 was rule breaking enough, but Chad mocks him for that. ‘Come on man, go have fun and get some dick, or whatever. Make friends. Make more friends.’ He states, in his dude-bro toned voice, forcefully pulling Jared from his bed. 

A body thumps into his own, pressing him tighter against the concrete wall, slightly bruising his back. 

“Wow dude, sorry!” The other person apologizes, his hazy blue eyes and tussled short black hair looking up at Jared, drunken smile painted on his face as his red solo-cup sloshes its continence. 

Reassembling himself, Jared stands up straighter, ignoring the stinging on his left shoulder blade in order to let out a stuttering apology. 

“T-that’s o-o-kay.” He pours out, jittery body forcing out a nervous smile. The other guy hums at his response, giving him a kind smile. 

“Your name?” He asks, not haughtily, but softly. A moment of silence follows, Jared’s body pausing in confusion, assessing the situation. Oh.

“O-oh!” He jumps, surprised that the man actually continued the conversation, expecting him to leave the second after. But he is still standing there, red solo-cup in one hand and the other shoved in his jean pocket, distorting his crippled, turquoise button-up even more. “J-jared. Jared, Padalecki.” He finally lets out, projecting another nervous smile, fingers stretching and curling stiffly against his thigh. The man doesn’t seem to notice it, however, his legs shifting, trying to steady his own two feet as he spoke. 

“Misha. Collins, if we’re gonna say last names too. Senior. And let me guess, freshman?” He asks playfully, gaining a nervous chuckle from Jared.

“That o-obvious?” He asks softly, tilting his head down in embarrassment.

“No, I just have a nose for that kind of stuff.” He states before bumping Jared slightly in the chest with his cup, surprising the brunette. “Lighten up, by the way. Nothing to be nervous about.” He tells him, beaming another smile at the boy before turning towards the exterior, submerging himself in the sea of drunken individuals. 

Lighten up? How? 

Once again, leaning towards the white wall, Jared bites his bottom lip lightly, deflating into himself as the night continues. He lifts his half-empty beer can to his lips, taking a sip of the cheap amber liquid, allowing another buzz to hum in his brain. He sighs, eyes closed and tired, shoulders hanging, and head heavy. The music was getting irritating by now, an uneasy buzz hitting the walls of his skull, as if it is angry, attempting to break out. He pushes his beanie lower, covering his eyebrows and enveloping the top of his head, the finger against it splaying across his eyes. The music just gets louder, and he can hear the sound of buzzed people screaming; they almost become one, just a loud noise.  
Finally, Jared pushes himself up, the back of his head thumping as he forces his way through the crowd, making sure to quietly move past the contorted young adults, their own spines too influenced to function normally. He hears a clash against the wall, surprising him, concluding to be a drunken couple. It is a short light-haired girl pinned to the wall while the other brunette boy felt her up, her leg wrapped around his waist, hand making his way from her mid-thigh, under her shorts, squeezing her ass, both wasted. Jared tries to avert his eyes, not in order to give them privacy, cause in this situation, how could he? More to be respectful, but also to not distract him from leaving. 

“Chad!” He calls, nervously smiling at the guys who give him a weird eye, irritated at his loud tone near them. “Oh, sorry...” he quickly apologizes, moving past them to call his friend again, slightly quieter. “Chad? Chad-Michael Murry!” Still no response whatsoever; fuck. Jared continues to push through the people politely, making sure not to get in the middle of an awkward make out session, or something more. But the house is huge, and he feels bad for the poor sucker who has to clean the tornadic residue it’ll leave. He continues to call him, hoping that it’ll get through to his fucking shaved head, which honestly, if Jared thinks about it, is between a skinny girl’s legs. Irritated and slightly disappointed, Jared strives on, the song switching to another generic Hip-Hop or Pop song, filling the room with ‘ass’ and ‘pussy’ and all other words Jared usually doesn’t look for in music. He was more of a Rock fan himself, his mixtapes consisting mostly of Pearl Jam and Our Lady Peace. He doesn’t have anything against popular music, but as much as he loves Britney Spears, he would rather listen to Eddie Vedder sing if given the choice. He can blame it on Jeff, as the older brother always exposes him to it, as well as Megan.

But it adds to the fact that this wasn’t his environment, and it’s raising his anxiety. 

Finally, to Jared relief, he got to the door, the pathway crowded and tight, but he makes it, and god does freedom feel amazing. 

“Fuck you, Murrey…” He whispers to himself irritated, opening the main entrance that reveals the outside. 

A cool breeze washes over him, and Jared was quick to step outside, to escape and also because a girl yells at him for allowing the cold air in. The air entraps his body, relaxing his heated and flustered skin, easing his anxiety majorly. Clean oxygen inhales next, allowing the chill to enter his nostrils, stinging slightly as it makes its pathway down the cord to his mouth, releasing in a puff of air, a cloud resulting from the contrast in humidity. The night feels nice, and it was substantially quiet, the only noise coming from the house. 

But it was only a faint buzz once Jared walks far enough, coming around behind the house, studying the night. 

It was half past 11 pm by now, the night looming over the house, covering it in a dark hue. The only light is coming from street lights. Jared looks up, eying the light-sprinkled-stars in the sky, but they are quite sparse, spaced out, scattered, and few. However, it is better than the cluster of emotions and hormones inside. Gosh, Jared sounds like his dad. Although, he has to feel slightly pleased by the houses structure; the large interior must match a large exterior. He steps around the yard, walking quietly over the slightly wet grass, soaking the cuffs of his jeans. Not caring much about the feeling, Jared continues to stroll, finding his way to the back of the house, walking past the large window leading to the inside, a luminescence of pink and purple, mixed with green and yellow, contrasting with the pigments of the night, highlighting Jared’s profile and giving birth to his shadow. 

Finally, Jared reaches the back of the house, a patio radiating light, but the sides were the opposite. It was a raised patio, and no one seems to occupying it, completely hiding its edges. But, if Jared squints, he can see a figure leaning against the wall, a few feet away from the patio, back lightly pressing into it. Well, Jared does squint, and he can see that not only is the figure alone, but how the figure is blowing puffs of air into the cold night, a cloud of clashing breath. The puff evaporates, but the man continues, blowing another cloud as soon as the last one disappears, his focus solely on the task. Jared immediately freezes, his body trapping him in his stance, one step ready to move forward. He doesn’t know what to do now, he wants to escape, he wants to be alone, but shit he walked into this and now it might lead to interaction. Something he isn’t afraid of, but at the moment, not something he is prepared for. 

The man continues his activity, blowing another puff of air, letting it dissolve in the night, in taking a breath, and releasing another cloud. And Jared, he stands there frozen, watching the man continue his task, standing there as if he is a deer in the head lights. 

“You just gonna stand there, or you gonna come here? Are you a stalker? If so man, I’m not as interesting as you think. Kinda boring, honestly.” 

No, a moose. He is a moose in the headlights: big and obvious. 

“Ahh..” Jared doesn’t know what to say in this instance, finding that his words do not form. Should he just leave now? He will appear odder, yes; but it’s an escape. He doesn’t want to be involved in a one-to-one conversation with someone he doesn’t know; it’s just the party situation but smaller. He can’t deal with pleasantries, and all he can muster is an awkward starter about the weather. The man is going to think he is a weirdo—he isn’t wrong—and Jared would suffer from another blow to his already low self-esteem and social interaction skills. Regular college life has already taken its swing, and it was his first semester. 

“You’re thinking a whole lot.” The man puts out, not diverting his attention from the puffs of warm breath, but he seems to have some focus on Jared. Or not, Jared cannot decide.

“I-I am?” Jared squeaks, immediately cringing at his awkward reply, his hopes of maintaining a decent conversation already breaking into shambles. 

The man snickers. 

“Shouldn’t you know that? It’s your brain, man.” The figure replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. He seems to stop blowing puffs of air now, head angling towards the ground, almost hanging as he becomes quiet, Jared doing the same. 

Moments pass. 

“You didn’t tell me if you’re a stalker, so I’m gonna make a deduction and say you are. At least get closer so I can see one more human before I die.” The man throws out, humor present in his voice, but Jared is too shaky to detect it. Fuck, fuck, he is not looking for an embarrassment today. 

Nonetheless, begrudgingly, Jared took a single step forward, slightly inside a light, grazing it barley. However, it was enough to see his shaggy hair, fringe covering his eyes as his head is tilted down against the ground, avoiding contact with the man’s sight. His hands are inside his coat pockets, balled into fists that only Jared knows about, stiff shoulders, aiming slightly downward to hide his tall frame. 

After what seems like 20 seconds, Jared looks up, eyes peeking through his beanie covered hair at the man who looks at him, taking in his features. 

The man seems about his height, slightly shorter; but, he is more built, more muscular than Jared, the frame bulked up in accumulated strength and muscle that fills out his jacket nicely. It was a moss-green material, similar to one of a bomber jacket, covering his top frame while his bottoms are enveloped in dark-blue jeans, cuffs soaked slightly with dew. His face was sharp and greatly structured, soft yet squared jaw—which Jared doesn’t even know is possible—accompanying his well-proportioned face, paired with doe-shaped eyes and blond hair, long enough bangs to lightly fall on the sides of his forehead. 

Jared has just stared at a man and described his whole look. 

“Aren’t you a tall killer? Didn’t expect you to be so lanky though. Is that how you draw in your victims? Give them a false sense of security?” 

What?

“N-no?” Jared replies, unsure of what to say, his mind boggling on whether he should take that as offensive or just a comment. 

“Well, then how do you kill your victims?” The man inquires, raising his right eyebrow up in question while Jared fumbles with the thoughts in his head.  
What kind of God-given conversation are they havi—

“I-I don’t?” Jared replies with, a slight bite in his voice, definitely taking offense now that the man continues with the whole serial-killer conversation. 

“Oh, okay. Sorry, bud, I was just joking.” He replies with, holding his hands out slightly in defense, a soft chuckle following his claim. 

Jared’s eyebrows soften—when did they furrow?—and his frame falters lightly, back to its slightly hunched state, signifying his want to be in the shadows.

The shadows accompany another human. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you, so if I did; sorry.” The man apologizes, but Jared doesn’t know if it even counts as an apology; it still doesn’t abate the fact that the man called his a stalker. “If it makes you feel any better, if I was in your position, I would say the same about me.” He adds, giving a kind half-smile, placing more of his weight against the concrete wall. 

“I don’t know if that makes it any less rude.” Jared counters, voice soft, barely a whisper; but, it seems like the man hears it. 

“Yeah, I agree with you. Guess I’m an ignominious human.” He smirks, “Do you like my vocabulary? You can thank my sophomore year English for that; bless you Mrs. F.” He exclaims in a joking manner, chuckling at his own reminiscence, which Jared takes no part in. He just stands and watches the man chuckle, staring intensely at the exhales mixing with the cold air, creating almost a floating elixir of frosty-colored breath. “Okay, listen, I’m really sorry about the stalker thing. It’s just a way to…start conversation. Don’t take offense; really, I didn’t mean it like that.” He says sincerely, looking up at Jared with a smile.

A defensive outer-shell is one of Jared’s most effective ways for protection, signaling to people that Jared most-likely won’t compute to them the way they want him to. And for the man surrounded by clouds, no exception can be seen. However, Jared ponders on this self-inflected rule: is it better to shut the man down and stretch the awkward tension or rather ease in and see if there is a safe out. 

“My names Jensen, by the way. In case you want to know.” The man—no, Jensen—reveals, a slight playful, yet, sincere tone glossing over his words. “Strange name, but beats Bob or Patrick.” He adds on, smiling up at Jared. “Your name?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Jared.” He responds, voice still a faint whisper. His bangs slid slightly to the right of his face, revealing more of his eyes to the character in front of him. 

“Nice to meet you, Jared. Hopefully, we kinda go past that.” Jensen comments, a testing smile forming from his mouth, scrunching up his forehead. 

“My uncle’s name is Patrick.” Jared replies, his voice monotone. Yet, offense was present, bleaching the tips of his words. Instantly, Jensen’s eyes went wide, taken aback in shock and embarrassment, lips attempting to form words that would ease away the uneasy state. Jared, standing there unfazed, just watches the abashed man, externally waiting for his response, while internally he snickers at the situation, amused by Jensen’s bewildered-state. He doesn’t have an uncle named Patrick, he doesn’t even know anybody named Patrick; he just saw a chance and took it, with a slightly sadistic turn. Jared knows the exact feelings Jensen is operating through: an easy escape from this terrible situation. Or for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Wait, so why was he doing it?

“Wait, it’s okay! I, actually don’t have an uncle named Patrick.” Jared starts, hands animatedly following his statement, extended and bent at the elbow, as if to both protect himself and catch Jensen. Instantly, Jensen’s eyes go wide once more, before scrunching back up, along with his other features, forming confusion, and a flash of relief. “I don’t even, um, know any Patrick’s…” Jared starts to trail, not knowing how to ease the rude treatment; oh how the tables have turned.

“Dude!”

Jared jumps at the tone, deciphering the voice as anger; but, once he looks up, Jensen’s face is painted with slight surprise and humor. 

“Don’t scare me like that!” He then chuckles, a smile growing on his face, bright green eyes open and lively. “But, hey, didn’t know Jared could crack a joke or not.”

And we’re back to the start.

“No offense.”

“That doesn’t make it better!” Jared retorts, for the second time. But, this one was light-hearted, humorous, and good-natured; more at ease if you will. Jared’s head tilts back slightly as he emits a laugh, shaking it playfully in the process. Jensen emulates something in the same nature, giggling to Jared comment, leaning against the brick wall, watching Jared laugh. 

“Dude, I don’t mean it.”

“Well, ‘dude’. Some people might take it in offense. Be careful.” Jared says, the bite replaced with sass and the frown with an amused smirk. 

“Got it, Mom.” Jensen replies, making sure to emphasize the word ‘Mom’ in a faux-irritated manner, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. 

“For your information, I would make a great Mom.” Jared counters, crossing his arms. But, again, they were less for defense however, more for comfort, his shell fading slightly, His senses were still on edge, but the one-to-one conversation made things simpler, slowly cracking the defensive barrier. 

Or softening it; Jared isn’t sure if he wants to pull it down all the way. 

“I won’t doubt that.” Jensen snickers, smiling at the taller boy encompassed in a blue button-up and jeans, the beanie fixated on his head. “So…how’d you come?” 

“To the party?” Jared inquires, Jensen replying only with a deadpan, which clears up the question in Jared’s head. “Oh, yeah, my friend forced me.” Jared replies with a chuckle.

“Hm?” Jensen hums, hinting to a question.

“Chad.”

“Michael-Murrey?” Jensen says immediately after, tone slightly a question rather than a statement, his scrunched up expression accompanying it. 

“Yeah?” Jared replies with, dragging the word in a similar sense of question. ‘”Why?”

“Nothing just,” shaking his head and scoffing, Jensen looks up. “nothing…” he says, seeming to stop himself. Jared, clearly confused by Jensen’s actions, looks at the man puzzled, but doesn’t push for answers. 

“Okay…” He says, looking for a way to relax the atmosphere. “What about you? Why’d you come?”

“Its my dorm.” Jensen says, lighter and calmer, half-smiling at Jared. “Misha wanted a party, and who the hell would I be to deny him?” he shrugs.

“This is your dorm?” Jared responds, surprised, voice slightly raising. Jensen only nods confirmation, allowing more of his weight to splay onto the wall. “Jensen…” he chuckles, “your place is trashed.” 

Suddenly, Jensen takes a few steps so he is closer to Jared, their bodies only a foot away from each other, enough for Jared to subconsciously read his face again. Jensen’s caramel skin becomes illuminated in the light, and he observes that Jensen’s hair parts in the middle, a weightless and soft curve at the bangs, nipping the tips of his ears. Jared’s in awe, the man is beautiful. 

“Yeah,” he smiles warmly. “I know.” His voice is rich, smooth, like thick, melting chocolate, dripping slowly. Oh gosh, that visual. 

Jared couldn’t respond, he was transfixed on the man’s face, gazing at his hair and jaw, the clear defining law that trails down to his throat and downwards, getting lost in his moss-green jacket. Holy hell.

Snapping out of his trance, he looks back up to Jensen, who looks at him in a similar light…or something Jared cannot decipher. His lips were slightly parted, coral-pink tongue visible. He seems to be studying Jared’s face as well, eyeing the boys hidden being bangs up and down. Jared feels his throat tighten, his body wanting to recoil back into himself; he couldn’t move, his eyes fixated onto Jensen, his calm expression contrasting to Jared’s nervous. The cold air nips at Jared’s face, and he can somehow feel the dew soaking his jean-cuffs, but those sensations were subsequent to the thumping in Jared’s chest, slowly exhilarating. This all happened so quickly. 

“You actually used my name.” Jensen finally says, voice low and rough. “I like the way you said it.” He states, firm and certain. He doesn’t move his gaze, looking into Jared’s eyes soulfully, crystalized green meeting swirls of brown, yellow, blue, and gold—melting slowly but richly. 

“T-thanks.” Jared replies, stutter coming back. This is all so much; he doesn’t know how to respond. His palpitating pulse and increase in sweat kept hitting his body, temperature rising, passing warm to burning. He attempts to move his fingers, in any direction, but all they do is twitch, as if a glitch in an image, and go back to their unmoving state. Jensen, oppositely, is calm, face set on the expression that makes Jared’s heart race, standing his ground, sucking all the words from Jared’s mouth and the thoughts from his head.

It’s so much. It’s so fast

Forcefully, he moves his head away, breaking the set silence, and shattering it into a million measly pieces. They return back to the chilled air, they return back to the sensation of soaked cuffs, and Jared returns them back to a safe distance. Taking a step back, only a slimmer away from the light, he looks back up at Jensen, who similarly, seems to have broken from his sensual state. His body kept its form, high and proper, but his face read otherwise, lips slightly open, lips a blush of red. His eyes, which could be mistaken for normal and unaffected if looked on from afar, encompass a cocktail of hurt and surprise, confusion and struck. 

“I—“

“Hey bud, you’re okay.” Jensen cuts in, his expression now a soft smile, eyes relaxed and mouth sweet like his frost nipped blush. “I understand. I’m sorry I came on too fast and strong—“

“What? No! No, I—“

“You don’t have to spare my feelings. I don’t even know you well and I tried to kiss you. You see it all the times in the movies but sometimes you realize that it’s kinda creepy?” Jensen rambles, and Jared doesn’t know if he is trying to break the awkward silence or solemnly rant. Maybe both.

“Kinda? Do you mean ‘kind of’?” Jared playfully snickers, much to Jensen’s delight; however, he masks that delight with a faux offense. 

“Hey! Don’t doubt Mrs. F’s teaching!” Jensen came into defense, shaking his head in disapproval. 

“Apparently she didn’t teach you enough..” Jared says under his breath, turning away slightly to mask his words.

“Hey!” Jensen acclaims again, but this time, it ends with awaken laughter, both boys shaking in delight and letting out soft chuckles of joy. Jensen’s eyes are crinkled, and Jared dimples are visible; puffs of hot breath bubbling out continuously, mixing with the air to create clouds of ease. 

“So,” Jared starts, “Misha wanted to have this party?” 

“Yeah. Man, he just thought it would be fun. You know, kind of a ‘why not’ situation.” Jensen says, shrugging to emphasize Misha’s nonchalant-objective. Which, Jared understands; Chad could be the same whenever he craved a party, camouflaging his dirty clothes with sheets or plainly hiding them under his bed, or Jared’s.

“I get that. Chad can be the same way too, except, Misha actually cleaned your dorm.” Jared counters, immediately cut off my Jensen’s snicker. 

“Oh please, do you think Misha actually cleaned up all our shit? Have you checked our basement?” Jensen inquires, causing Jared to chuckle softly.

“Fair enough.” 

“And it’s great, since there’s this girl he wants to impress. Vicki—know her?” Jensen starts, waiting for Jared response, which is ultimately a shake of the head after a few seconds of consideration. “Well, she’s super smart and cool, and kind of a neat-freak. So if Misha wants to impress her, he better start cleaning. And in result, also cleaning our shit. It gets mixed up a lot. Me, Misha’s, oh and Jason’s. Although, he’s a lot cleaner than Misha; however, he’s like, barely home.” 

“So this only benefits you?” Jared stars to decipher.

“Well…” Jensen trails the word for a few seconds, before smirking happily. “It’s helpful—“

“Nice!” Jared’s back bends slightly as he cackles, beanie sliding back slightly, strands of hair loosening from their knitted hold. Jensen stares at the boy at this moment, watching him bemusedly. For a moment, the smile fades slightly, but the adoration in Jensen’s eyes do not falter, keeping a gaze on Jared.

God this sounds like a badly written rom-com. 

“Say a word to Misha and he’ll have my head. He won’t stop but he’ll have my head.” Jensen adds, pointing a finger to Jared unthreateningly, but to playfully emphasize the point, the smile kicking back in. 

“Misha doesn’t seem like the threateningly type though. Jared says in response.

“No, he isn’t.” Jensen replies softly, slowly sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket, gazing at the brick wall. “So, no worries I guess.”

“So I can tell him?” Jared inquires, raising an eyebrow in question, an enthusiastic smirk accompanying it. 

“Go ahead man, no one’s stopping you. Actually don’t, he will stop doing my chores for me.”


	2. Here (2)

“But seriously, Zeppelin is the best.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” Jared agrees, Texan accent blending with his altered-western one, acquired through many months of forced interaction with Chad and his hook ups. His only source of interaction for a long period of time were kind offerings of tea to wasted and confused females, stripped to their underwear or even half naked at times. Jared might be bisexual but that didn’t mean he wanted to see half-naked college students roaming around their apartment for some food or an Advil. Or both. Surprisingly, their first thought in the mornings where never usually Chad, and by now, neither was Jared’s. 

At this moment, however, Jared thoughts were all focused on Jensen Ackles and his terrible-British accent supposedly mocking a new professor in their campus. Jared attempts to do the same but he just sounds like a lost pirate. 

“The seas are stormy today with the sound of arrgh!” Jared mocks, earning a much appreciated, hardy laugh from Jensen, who counteracts him by releasing a high pitched, snotty, and tightened sentence aspiring to be something similar to Mr. Shepphard. 

“I wake up every day and I see a beautiful man!”

“No, please! Gosh, you’re going to kill me!” Jared interrupts, his body vibrating from the excessive streams of laughter coursing through his body, supporting himself by placing his hands on his bent knees, as if he has just ran a mile. 

“Ahh, you’ve discovered my master plan!” Jensen says, voice morphing to a squeakier version of the previous accent. 

“God.” Jared scoffs, smiling at the shorter boy. 

Silence follows them afterwards, a comfortable silence, opposite to the one in their early stages of interaction; silence filled with mist and cool-air, residue of rain fall and little bursts of moon dust; silence of soulmates, not strangers.

Soulmates, what an interesting concept. 

Unnoticed to them, their bodies shifted slowly towards each other: as interest boils, polarity increases. North and South; shy and confident; opposites attract. All of this happening here at a party Jared didn’t wasn’t to go to, and still grimaces about. But, Jensen, Jensen makes it better; he makes the crushing silence go away, the automated activation of anxiety boil down into a nervousness purposed for a different cause. The budding of his chest never left, it only morphed into something different, for something different.  
Whatever reason Jared has for not wanting to go to the party are masked by a blonde in a moss-green jacket, and no this isn’t love. Honestly, Jared doesn’t know what it is, all he knows is that he is comfortable and enjoys it. 

“It’s getting late.” Jared checks his watch

“I know.” Jensen replies.

“We should probably go inside; its cold.” Jared points out.

“I know.” Jensen replies.

“Can I please kiss you?” This wasn’t a statement, it was a question: a question for Jensen and a shock for Jared. Did he just—no; yes, he did. He did and he cannot take it back.

Just yet.

The feeling is back again, the anxiety, the thumping inside his chest and inside his skull, adrenaline pumping through his veins while his body spasms into panic mode. He denied Jensen first, why did he ask him now? He’s such a fucking idiot.

“I don’t know; can you?” Jensen interrupts him, and Jared instantly gets defensive.

“What?”

But then he calms down, because it’s only Jensen. Warm and comfortable and accepting Jensen. 

“Can you kiss me?” Jensen asks, tone firm and serious. What the fuck—

“Are you kidding?” Jared groans, rolling his eyes when Jensen giggles at his response, snickering at his own joke. 

“Please, kiss me, Jared. Only if you want to.” He smiles, lips smoothing out to accommodate their new form. Jared stares at them for a moment, taking in their sheer rosiness, only to go back to Jensen. Jensen, who is waiting for him patiently, the same kind demeanor Jared was weary of, only to be dramatically replaced by a goofy, warm man with a horrible British-accent. 

Suddenly, Jared feels the racing of his heart, the continuous pump of blood ordinarily unaware to the senses. But, at this moment, he feels them. The same thu-thump and fastening of pace his heart usually does when he find himself in an unwanted situation, whether it is a college party or watching Chad-Michael-fucking-Murray start unnecessary conflict. It is the same feeling of anxiety he has experienced throughout all of his 18 years of life, and fuck is Jensen beautiful, looking at Jared, waiting for Jared. And Jared, unappreciated by himself, is unsure. Unmoving. Un-everything.

“If…only I want to?” Jared mumbles, inhaling quietly, eyes flickering from Jensen’s lips to the green of his eyes, watching the blonde puff out a singular chuckle, shaking his head slightly, but never diverting his eyes from Jared. 

“I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Jensen responds sincerely, his tone warm and everything Jared’s anxiety wants to hear. “Of course, you’re the one who asked. So, you’re just contradicting yourself, Jared.”

That. That ruins the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

But not too much.

Jared’s consciousness stifles for a moment, his awareness blacking out the way Chad wanted him to during potential nights out. But, in this situation, Chad doesn’t matter, the thumping of his heart doesn’t matter, and his head doesn’t feel dismantled or heavy. On the contrary, it feels light, as if he was on cloud nine, or this odd drug called Jensen. Jensen, with his soft lips tasting of alcohol and the sweetest-candy Jared has ever come across. He knows that description wasn’t fully adequate and sounded like a line from a cheap romantic-novel, but the feeling, the feeling, as indescribable. He’s slightly disappointed that he couldn’t describe it adequately, but it was less a moment and more a feeling, and Jared can’t explain his feelings even if he tried. All that pops in his head of hair is warm, sweetness, and Jensen.  
The last registration of the feeling is that it was soft, and then he pulls back, abruptly, and his eyes shoot open, his anxiety fostering once more and panic soon following. Fuck, fuck, fuck; he fucked up. Fu—

“Jared. Stop thinking, for a goddamn second.” His vision finally takes in the figure in front of him, fluttering in from the outline of the face to the distinct features, slowly registering in the green eyes and freckles. “Just stop.”

Jensen stares at him, and waits; he waits for Jared to focus solely on him and only him, and not on the repetitive thumping of his hear against his rib cage, the sensation immediately overpowering the previous one. “Focus on me, Jared. I’m right here.”

Jared is focused, but revealing he is focused in any motion initiates the action of confrontation and registration. And he really doesn’t want to confront his actions.  
He was so sure of himself, and then that assurance began to diminish, and then, before he couldn’t compose himself, he made the move, he took the chance, seized the moment, carpe diem or some bullshit. 

“Jared, can you look at me?”

“I am.” Fuck. Shut up, Padalecki. 

“Can you really look at me?”

That, may be an impossible task to accomplish at his very moment, as Jared’s heart further hyperventilates, and his exterior and interior demeanor crumbles. His breathing becomes more visible and prevalent, further exemplified by the constant clouds of saturation and humidity formed as his breath contacts the cold air. “Maybe.”  
“Hey..” And then Jared feels fingers touch his cheek, surprisingly warm fingers, faintly brush against his skin, igniting surprise and a tickling sensation. This gets his attention, and his eyes widen even more, finally focusing solely on Jensen, because all of his external contacts are Jensen, at least the prevalent ones. To be completely truthful, all of his senses, external and internal, were Jensen. All he could think about now is Jensen. “You’re all good.” Then he smiles, that warm smile Jared finds entrancing, because by now, he is entranced. It is impossible not to be, inhuman even. 

“I’m sorry.” Jared stutters, his gaze not moving from the shorter boys.

“The hell are you apologizing for. I let you kiss me.” Jensen counters, voice kind yet humorous, conveying his personality. 

“But I don’t know if you wanted me to kiss you.” 

“Are you fucking kidding?” His smile is illuminated by the faint light, intensifying his manner. “I’m the one who tried to kiss you first.” He looks at Jared with a mix of disbelief and understanding, before sincerity. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

“R-really?” 

“Really.”

The air, cold and humid, is filled with silence, a comfortable silence, based on feelings of anxiety, uncertainty, trust, security, and warmth. If that even made sense—Jared is slightly over trying to make sense of feelings. He is a cocktail of ease and glee, staring down at the face of Jensen, the mans hands altering from a gentle brush to a calm cupping of the jaw, stroking the edge of Jared’s jawbone, the area where the edge of his jawline met his side burn. He doesn’t move to make contact with it, but just lets the sensation rest on his face, enjoying the touch. 

“You know, maybe your response would have been better if Mrs. F was a better teacher.” Jared comments, breaking the silence, and returning the atmosphere to its original playfulness.

“Okay no, fuck you!” And then they are both chuckling, enjoying the familiarity of the comment, all their warm laughs cock-tailing with the cold air. “Listen, I’m going to fully explain to you the exceptional teaching techniques of Mrs. F, all with diagrams and flowcharts!”

“Flowcharts?” Jared exclaims playfully, chuckling at Jensen’s defensive stance. 

“Yes! Flowcharts! The superior method of explanation!”

Jared and his psyche are immensely glad they left the party to be here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while since I have visited this story, and I do not feel as if I have the same touch in writing that I have had before. But I'm trying to regain that now, and finishing one of my stories might help me rebuild something similar. So, enjoy this


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